Greg Cochrane's new releases review

Friday 25 April 2008 19.16 EDT
First published on Friday 25 April 2008 19.16 EDT

Pick of the weekSantogold Les Artistes (Atlantic)

Santogold, aka Pennsylvanian Santi White, has, in her short life, had enough drama to fill an entire series of CSI. To recap: in 2003 her father died suddenly after an FBI corruption scandal drove him to ill health. An understandably distraught White moved to NYC, became an A&R girl, palled up with MIA and is now on the cusp of being the coolest pop star on earth. It's that impressive amount of fight she squeezes - via a pair of leopardskin leggings - into this Pretenders-meets-Cindy Lauper indie-pop beauty that'll slay indie discos from here til Christmas. Or, more simply, her Last Nite moment. Yes, it's that good.

These New Puritans Swords Of Truth (Angular)

Southend dark-hearts TNP spend most of their time re-enacting Arthur Miller's Crucible using Kraftwerk records as props. Bizarre, then, that this sounds like the Queen's marching band covering the Fall complete with buxom toots and monochrome beats. It's almost sexy. But then we're reminded that mouthpiece Jack Barnett worships Kafka, eats a lot of beetroot and almost certainly has a hearty chuckle when he buries close members of his family in the compost heap when he mutters threats like "the back of the car/Cue my attack". Golly.

Los Campesinos! My Year In Lists (Wichita)

"Nothing says 'I miss you' quite like the poetry carved in your door with a Stanley knife," coos Gareth Campesinos! like the BF you got too close to before discovering him still peeping through the letterbox six months later. It's a sweet, shaky and basically ruddy wonderful Go Team!-style xlyo-driven romp. Frustratingly, in this apathetic world we live, actually buying it probably comes somewhere between putting the bin out and unblocking the bog on real people's to-do lists.

White Denim Let's Talk About It (Full Time Hobby)

Although white denim and red wine should never share the same space together (not even Daz gets it out, does it Mr Borrell?), it's hard not to raise a glass of sweet vino to Austin, Texas's gonzo rockers. Despite sounding like it was recorded in the back of a moving laundry van, this two minutes of Cramps-esque fuzz rollicks past like Boris Johnson on Heelies while extolling the virtues of a good old heart to heart. Always good to get things off your chest, unless, that is, it's a confession about Nutella and Kelly Osbourne. Which didn't happen, by the way.

Pendulum Propane Nightmares (Warners)

2008: the year that D'n'B finally breaks according to Warners' press chat. Odd really, seeing as we thought Goldie did that in 1995 and this is the very same Pendulum whose last hit single Granite thudded into the Top 30 (No 29) like a sack of empty crisp packets. Frankly Propane's anything but a gas; it's music for people who like trying to dance like Pinocchio licking his knees. Needless to say, we've tried said moves (they hurt) and even Nickelback sounds better than this plague on our 'lobes.